


Ready, Set, Aim!

by durinsreign



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Enemies to Lovers, Family Angst, Family Feels, Family Reunions, Fist Fights, Gun Violence, Gun for Hire Dwalin, Human AU, M/M, Minor Character Death, No closure, Regret, Reminiscing, Slow Burn, Thief Nori, Wild West AU, Young Ori
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26720206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/durinsreign/pseuds/durinsreign
Summary: Supply and payroll wagons begin disappearing again after 3 years with the only lead being the face of a weaselly red head that hasn't been seen in 6. This time, he's more aggressive than ever, and the Durin's turn to Dwalin to bring him in for interrogation.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin/Nori (Tolkien)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 12





	1. Stagtooth's Very Own

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be updated as chapters are posted.
> 
> I've kind of been working on this forever and finally decided to start posting it.

_____________________________________

**ANGELROCK  
WEDNESDAY  
AUGUST 17, 1888  
02:24 PM**

**1 WEEK FROM THE HEIST**

"Ever seen a dead body?” Nori asks, not looking away from the mangled corpse lying not three feet away from them. "Poor bastard," he shakes his head.

Bofur scrunches up his face.

The sun beats down on the remains of what once was a man, now a heap of torn cloth, bone, and rotting flesh. His skin shriveled and burnt from the unrelenting heat, body slumped over, half-sitting, half-laying on the side of the dirt path. Next to him was a wagon that Nori doesn’t even think is worth the effort of searching. Bofur has to catch himself before he can gag, glancing at Nori, who is looking straight at the corpse without so much as a wrinkled nose. 

“Yeah,” Nori huffs and starts to turn away, dropping a hand on Bofur’s shoulder to pull him along. “Lots of those ‘round here.”

Nori's seen enough bodies to know more about what intestines look like than flowers— been the cause of more bodies than he can count on his fingers and toes three times over, too. By now all he does is suck his teeth as a form of pity and move on.

The road into town is worn and unkept. It's some mean little place off to the side of the main road where the law enforcement is shit and the visitors are shunned; perfect for discussing shady business and organizing small deeds of crime, Nori thinks. The buildings look run down, walls covered in old, chipped paint, and if it weren't for the few horses and residents lining the streets — most of them still as mannequins, anyway — he would’ve thought Bofur brought him here to kill him. 

Bofur takes the lead once they reach the saloon, putting a finger over his lips to tell Nori to ' _shut the fuck up_ ' if he knows what's good for him. That tongue of his never knows when to stop; in the few hours he's spent with him, Nori and Bofur already ran into _enough_ trouble for a group ten times their number. 

Nori rolls his eyes as they push through the doors, going on about Bofur being no fun. He doesn't bother looking around as he saunters in, obviously there would be plenty of time to explore the entire building with the pace Bofur was taking.

“Cousin!” Bofur announces, loud enough for a man at the bar (and several others) to turn around. He seems to recognize Bofur immediately, standing from his bar stool, and, much to the red-head's annoyance, all but ignores Nori's presence.

He's tall in a _shorter_ than Bofur, _taller_ than Nori (by _two inches_ at most) kind of way — not that it matters, or that it was a big deal, because it isn't, and there has never been a height issue with his 'colleagues', nor has there ever been a dick measuring contest, but still, Nori might hate it a little.

He wears a dark leather vest over a casual gray undershirt. It's nothing too fancy for a place like this, he came as soon as he'd received Bofur's letter after all. His pants are covered in splotches of mud, a working man by the looks of it, probably doesn't have a proper spouse at home— _again_ , not that it matters, but it's nice to know he doesn't have major attachments in case he was offed somewhere; Nori hates making house calls.

“Bifur, Nori. Nori, Bifur.” Bofur finally introduces, motioning to and from the red-head beside him and his cousin. Bifur tips his hat, makes a hand gesture Nori isn’t quite familiar with, and taps the counter for another round of drinks.

— • —

Bofur slams his fist on the table, rattling the knife Nori had set down and spilling the shot glass Bifur was about to take. He was already having a bad day, having had to spend most of it with Nori — of all people —, and on top of that, the weaselly bastard didn't even have a 'plan'.

"One week?" Bofur holds Nori's empty (yet somehow challenging) stare, seeing right past his confident act. He should've known. In fact, he _did_ know. He called it the moment Nori sat him down to write the letter to Bifur. 

"There's only three of us, you realize that, right? Bet you don't even have _no_ plan, don't you? You'll just get us killed and walk your happy ass right out with _all_ the cash, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up, _Broadbeam_." Nori snarls, picking the blade from the tabletop and aiming its tip at Bofur's face. "'Fore I make you."

Bofur leans toward him daringly, the whites of his knuckles visible on his hands— and with spite in his voice, "I'd like to see you try."

He feels all eyes on them, the commotion of their child-like maturity overwhelming the saloon to silence, and Nori growls, eyes narrowed with malice on his tongue.

"Now... you listen here, Broadbeam." Nori says slowly, danger dripping off every dragged out syllable. "We do things _my_ way and _nobody_ , that don't need to, dies. Capisce?"

Bofur looks like he's about to lunge across the flimsy saloon table and strangle Nori with his bare hands. He certainly wishes he could.

Nori looks between Bofur and Bifur, inviting either of them to object. When they don't, he drops his rigid stance and downs the rest of the bottle Bifur had ordered for their table.

"What's it, then?" Bofur grumbles, falling into his seat with a thud and defeated sigh. He watches Nori's lips curl and rolls his eyes, wishing he declined the first initial offer when he still could've.

"I can get them train prints by…" he counts on his fingers.

_One…_

_Two…_

_Three…_

"Saturday."

— • —

**STAGTOOTH  
THURSDAY  
AUGUST 18, 1888  
05:07 PM**

**6 DAYS FROM THE HEIST**

_Home_ ; something Nori hasn't felt in years. His little brother was still in diapers and Dori was breathing down his neck about some bounty on his head the last time he left.

It was nice, actually. Ori babbling incoherently and Nori babbling right back, Dori was a joy, and their mother was still healthy, then. Times were simpler and Nori desperately wishes they stayed that way. 

Things change too quickly for his likings and Nori runs off for the first time when he's fifteen. He's nothing but an angsty teenager looking for something to control his still prepubescent anger, something to rebel against and defy.

Now he's twenty-seven and something inside him _still_ tells him that he's angry at the world, everything it stands for, and anything it's ever made. He takes and takes and takes until there's nothing left to take, and he's left with everything and _nothing_.

He remembers how cold it is to sleep against stones in the grasslands, and how hot it gets to not have a roof over his head to protect himself from the sun. Then, later, how lonely it can be, running from the law all the time.

It isn't as fun as they said it would be.

Nori pulls the reins toward his chest with a gentle "slow down, boy." to his horse as they walk into view of the house Nori hasn't seen in five years.

The grass is yellow where it was green, and the paint along the porch railings has nearly all chipped away. It looks old and tired and hateful.

Just outside, on the front steps of the wooden home he used to know, a young boy sits playing fetch with a dog. When he sees Nori on his horse, Nori swears the boy perks up with a grin that reaches his ears as he runs inside. There's a little bit of commotion before an angry-looking Dori swings the door open with a presumably loaded rifle in hand.

Even when Dori sees Nori's face and even when Dori sees their family's crest across the chest of Nori's horse, he stands, ready to fire at any sudden move. Nori notices this, puts his hands up, and rears his horse away from the house a few feet. 

"Dori," Nori asks more than says. He still has his hands up as he slides down from his horse. Dori points the barrel of the gun at him and Nori freezes.

"Don't you know when you're unwelcome?" Dori shouts, and a smaller than small looking Ori peeks from behind him looking terrified. He clings to Dori's shirt, little fists tight and trembling.

Nori's heart clenches watching Ori look at him like he's never seen him before. He looks at Nori like a stranger; an intruder trespassing on their land, and it _hurts_.

Nori stands dumbfounded for a minute in silence, blinking stupidly at the aimed barrel. He makes no move to stop Dori from threatening him. He deserved it, after all, for running off without a word, abandoning him and baby Ori, leaving them to tend to their sick mother without any stable means of income— the list could go on for miles. 

"Come on, brother." He tries again, ignoring the ache in his chest, and inching— not only one, but two— steps closer. "Is this any way to greet a _sibling_?"

_____________________________________


	2. Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just Ri family feels

_____________________________________

The stand off seems to last for hours, Nori watching the shadows shift and reshape across Dori's face. _Oh, Dori_. He hasn't seen his big brother in years— Nori doesn't think he's ever missed the constant nagging so much.

It just goes to show how, cliché as it is, he doesn't know what he has until it's gone.

Nori huffs through his nose, his arms aching from being held up for so long. By God himself, if Dori doesn't put that damned gun away soon, he thinks they'll fall off instead.

"What are you doing here, Nori?" Dori hisses, finally lowering the gun enough for Nori to feel safe and advance to at least the front steps. Ori presses tighter against Dori's leg, whimpering as Nori slowly walks up and tosses his rifle on the grass.

"I'm just passing through," he answers honestly, frowning. Dori's face scrunches up more, as if he could look any angrier — as if he already knew what was coming next. "... might need a place to sta—"

"No."

"Dori—"

Dori raises his gun again— like he could ever shoot _family_ —, and nods toward Nori's horse. "Get out."

 _Get out_...

Does he really want that from him?

Nori feels himself shrink, falling back into the mind of a much younger, more impressionable, version of himself that might've absolutely bawled at the very hint of a 'no'. Dori didn't want him back and he certainly didn't want him home (if he was even allowed to call it that anymore). The pit of his chest stings like an open wound, the words Nori wants to say spill; falling so far down he can't even be bothered to pick them back up.

"How's mom?" He croaks, blinking away the sudden flurry of emotions behind his eyes. Dori doesn't miss a beat when he says she's...

"Dead." 

And Nori feels himself drop even further.

The mother who taught him everything. The mother who he didn’t appreciate as intensely as he should have…

 _Dead_.

"How long?"

"Two years."

 _Oh_.

He's been back almost _three_.

Nori doesn't talk for a while, instead he stands with his eyes glossed over while he tries— for the life of him— to remember what on Earth he could've been doing that made it so impossible for him to visit his family. The more he thinks, the more he realizes that it was never about getting _them_ money. It was always about _himself_. 

The thrill, the recognition, and attention— all this time, under the guise of a self-given responsibility to _provide_. He was so fucking _delusional_ : purposely doing a shit job at everything to get the witnesses, just so maybe, just maybe, he could reach those impossible, utterly _useless_ expectations he'd created for himself.

Deep down, he hopes he's made himself proud. He hopes it was worth it, because now he's on his way to rob a goddamn train for a couple hundred bucks that won't fill the empty chair at dinner.

"Well?" Dori snaps Nori back to the scene before them. And Nori's got tears in his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with grief for not only his mother, but the life he could have had with Dori and Ori as a _family_. A minute passes, and a series of fabricated memories play like songs in Nori's head, repeating themselves for what seems like forever in a wicked loop that intends and exists only to curse and spite him.

He's about to do it: tell Nori off because he has no right to cry _now_ , of all times. Not when he could've done it when they buried her; not when he could've done it when they found her. 

But Nori sniffles and then he drops to his knees with a soft thump, gradually feeling sicker and sicker to his stomach. His oversized hat falls over his eyes, and Dori has to stop himself from reaching out to catch him.

"I'm sorry," Nori tries, and looks back up at his brothers with trembling lips. How _embarrassing_. "I was here," He desperately points to the ground with his finger. "I was here, right _here_! 'Swear, I was, I was standing here. I couldn't… I didn't think,"

He can't stop, _why can't he stop_? Even as he presses a hand over his mouth to muffle the sob, he shakes. It's raw everything. Raw tears, raw emotion, raw hurt. 

It must look pathetic: Nori, collapsed on his knees, crying for his _mommy_ because he was too much of a coward to knock and now she's gone forever.

Then it all comes back to him— the first day he's in town again after three years.

_Nori walks up to the house with a rabbit. It's near dark but it took him all day to get up here and he knows they're still awake because he can hear Ori laughing from the living room and Dori half shouting to stay away from the fireplace when he plays._

_Doubt gnaws at his insides, and he feels a little nauseous. What if they don't want him home? If they didn't miss him at all?_

_He stands in front of the porch steps for fifteen minutes, listening to Dori call dinner, smelling the home cooked meal he'd made, and imagining if he'd been let inside._

_Nori builds a reality in his head where they see him and welcome him home with open arms and warm, teary eyed smiles; one where Dori scolds him for being gone so long and pats him down for injuries — just like when he was younger._

_When he opens his eyes again, he's still outside, in the cold, alone. It's so easy to take the few steps and knock._

_Just knock._

_Knock on the door—_

Nori feels the warmth of Dori before he even touches him, wincing at the foreign tenderness. He smells the familiar, fresh cut wood and herb smell, too. He cries harder. He hasn't been held this way (or any way) in years.

Dori's hand rests at the back of Nori's head, holding him to his chest like when Nori was ten and Dori eighteen. It feels so familiar, Dori begins to weep into Nori's shoulder. He misses this, misses his younger brother. Dori can't bring himself to say it just yet, but he's so relieved Nori is alive.

— • —

Nori shuffles into the house, his chest booming like several overlapping drums. It looks different from last time. The couch is in the wrong place and so are the pictures, but the clock still sits on the same wall as it always has since he was Ori's age.

Dori brings him to the table, where Ori's many drawings lie scattered about. He picks one up and turns it over. There's a date on it: _08.03.1888._

"Who's that?" Nori points to a starfish-headed stick figure that appeared in just about every family portrait Ori had drawn.

Ori rushes over, climbing up on one of the chairs to motion Nori's head.

"Dori said, when you were small, you were a starfish." 

Nori chuckles and glances at Dori, who is leaning against the counter waiting for tea. Dori shrugs.

"I said you were a star fisherman."

"See!" Ori exclaims, pointing to the drawing again. "Starfish." Nori laughs a little harder at Ori's enthusiasm, ruffling the boy's hair. 

"Say…" he picks up a drawing from the table, looking at the starfish monstrosity more fondly than anyone else could've. "Can I have one?"

_____________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated!


	3. Untouchable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Durin's catch wind.

**WOLF'S RIDGE  
MONDAY  
JULY 20, 1888  
06:42 AM**

**4 WEEKS FROM THE HEIST**

The doors swing open, hitting the walls behind them with an expensive sounding _clack!_ The room falls silent and Dain Ironfoot stomps in to shove a fistful of flyers at the nearest person— in this case, Thorin—, shouting something along the lines of, “we’ve finally got him, lads!” and "he'll be put away fer good when we catch him!"

Thorin almost falls over, takes the papers from Dain’s hands properly, straightens them out, and looks them over as if he has _any_ clue as to what it all means in the first place. He flips through the pages and finds that every single piece of paper has the same print and picture.

"Who's this?" Thorin asks, passing the crumpled stack around the room. "A wanted poster… I've never seen that man in my life?"

The man in question, a narrow-faced criminal described to be a redhead of average height and lean build, smirks at Thorin through the page, taunting him with a gaze that says, "you can't catch me". 

Dain looks exasperated as he answers, "thief who's been stealin' from the supply and payroll wagons for weeks—" A pause; Thorin looks confused. "Your father ain't tell you?"

It isn't the Durins' biggest issue at the moment: some thief hijacking their wagons and such every few weeks for almost a year and a half now. There was a problem like this several years ago, but Dain doesn't think it's related; the Durins are rich, who wouldn't try to steal from them? They're practically sitting ducks in this mansion.

"No." Thorin says, now feeling slightly betrayed. He's the heir, for fucks sake, why isn't he informed of the family's problems and finances?

The posters make their way around the table, each member of the previously held meeting glancing over the face on the front. Bilbo springs from his seat once he gets the stack of papers, slapping it down on the table.

 _Dramatic_.

"I know 'im." He points to the big fat picture of Nori's face, a wry smile across his lips. "I used to— uh…" yes, what is he supposed to say? _I used to run with him_? _We used to steal from you_?

Dain glances at Bilbo, questioning him wordlessly. Bilbo shakes his head to clear his thoughts. This isn't the time to think about old partners and runnings.

"... run into him a lot…" _Stupid_. "Listen, I just know… I want him gone." Because who doesn't want an old partner to get what he deserves? He thinks for a while, trying to remember anything about that damn redhead.

"... and I think I might know where he's staying." 

— • —

**WOLF'S RIDGE  
1882  
SIX YEARS AGO**

Nori jumps from the train platform to his horse, steadying the animal to run beside the train for as long as possible while Bilbo finishes up inside. Repeatedly hitting his hip, Nori's bag is full of watches and necklaces from the passengers. If he times it right, he could pawn them all off later without any suspicion (plus he only has a _little_ blood on his face, so it's already rather successful in his book). Split that with Bilbo too. He deserves it.

He laughs a crooked, crazy laugh, lawmen closing in from the left side of the train. They ride in from the trails and Nori has a brief thought of just shooting each and every one of them just to get them off their tail later.

"Hurry the fuck up, Baggins!" Nori barks, and Bilbo soon comes running out, stuffing his pockets with the last of the paper money, breathing a few hard breaths, and then jumping onto Nori's horse too, fumbling around to not fall off the speeding animal.

They branch off from the railroads, four lawmen still in pursuit of the duo. They shout for them to stop, drop the money, and maybe they won't immediately be hanged. For some god forsaken reason, Nori finds it pathetic and hilarious; he busts a gut trying to contain his howling.

They ride on to the closest state line and into the beginnings of a forest, the distant booms of gunfire and thundering of hooves in the opposite direction makes Nori snicker. The law around here's always been a joke; always will be.

Bilbo looks back at the tracks and the road, fantasizing a universe where he's lying there dead, hopefully, instead of on the back of a horse with a shitty guy he'd just robbed a train with. It'd be much easier then. But alas… he is stuck with Nori and Nori stuck with him. Not that they can't call it off at any time…

Nori slows his horse as they reach the beginning of a creek, the forest thickens from here, and galloping straight into a tree or two isn't what he has in mind for the evening. Bilbo huffs, sliding down from the horse and takes the money he collected out of his pockets and satchel. He straightens it out in his hands, counts it, and hands it all to Nori.

"All right?" Nori asks, taking the money from the shorter man. Bilbo hums.

"We nearly got caught out there," he looks back toward the way they came. Clear as always. "Doesn't that bother you?"

Nori groans. 

"Come on… this _again_?" 

Fucking everyone _almost_ gets caught, why does he think they fucking run?

"Yes. This. _Again_." Bilbo raises a brow. "Every time, y'know? You jump and leave me to do it on my own." And he's sick of it. "It would've gone a lot faster if you'd finished up your side."

Nori isn't listening to whatever bullshit Bilbo is talking about, sounding like his mother or whatever the fuck, instead he sits on a large rock by the water and counts the money. He parts half for Bilbo and puts the other half back in his pocket. 

"We're not dead. S'all that matters." He tosses the wad of cash to Bilbo and Bilbo counts it. "Don't let your balls fall out of your mouth, Baggins." 

As much as Bilbo hates working with Nori, the fucker always pulls through with just enough money to keep his head above water. Man has a bounty in every territory west of the Wildare Peaks.

Thing is, Nori never thinks of his bounty as something dangerous, anyway. He thinks it's funny, treats it like a high score; something to beat. "It's fun." He says. Whatever the fuck he thinks fun _means_. Nori always thinks he can do _better_. 

Better…

Well, one day, mark Bilbo's words, that bastard of a man, Nori, won't make it out of a stupid robbery. _Then_ he'll see. Yeah. _Then he'll see_.

Not so untouchable then, _huh_?

— • —

**WOLF'S RIDGE  
MONDAY  
JULY 20, 1888  
02:00 PM**

**4 WEEKS FROM THE HEIST**

Bilbo draws a messy map on the paper spread in front of him, circling a spot to the far right. Around the table sits Thorin, Dain, Thror, Thrain, and Frerin. 

"There's a train arriving in roughly four weeks, yeah?" Bilbo makes a line from one edge of the paper to the previously drawn circle. Thorin nods.

"Coming from Crow's Point."

"Good. This is the closest station to us," a rectangle for the building, a badly drawn mountain path. "This is where they'll hit." 

Thorin narrows his eyes. "There is a choke point. I've ridden that path before." 

"They'll stop the train, I'm sure. All 'round it's just rock, they couldn't climb it." Frerin drags his finger over each entrance to the path. "Surround them and that's it."

"Shit," Bilbo curses, tapping a finger on the page. "We don't know how many people he has."

"Big fuckin' train. I'm thinking six at least if he's robbing too."

The room falls silent.

"Get Dwalin?"

"I'm thinking. But I don't think he'll say yes."

"He's got nothing going on, I bet."

"Don't hurt to try. I'll send a letter."

_____________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated!


	4. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You ain't broke."

**OXDALE  
SATURDAY  
AUGUST 20, 1888  
08:48 PM**

**4 DAYS FROM THE HEIST**

Nori presses the edges of the prints down, placing pebbles from his pockets on each corner as paperweights. Next to the print is a messy stack of papers with names of people and items that should all be accounted for at arrival. Bofur leans over from where he's smoking.

"What's all that?" He says, turning back to the window. Nori grumbles something under his breath— like Bofur forgot the entire reason they came here in the first place— and Bifur puts a hand on his shoulder. 

He's _right_ , it's not worth it. _Not yet anyway _.__

__Whatever._ _

__"Train prints and roll sheets." Nori hands the stack of papers to Bifur, who in turn hands them off to Bofur. "Tell me what's on there, can't read well."_ _

__Bofur raises a brow but says nothing and goes on to flip through the pages. "Let's see… we're after the payroll and cash right?" Nori nods and Bofur sticks his nose back in. "Buncha bonds in there too, might wanna look for 'em."_ _

__"If we have time, I don't know how long the laws gon' be off, but I say at least twenty minutes since we're out far."_ _

__"And 'bout… forty passengers— shit this train's huge."_ _

__"We'll be fine, look." Nori motions to the train prints in front of him, on the page, there's ten to fifteen circled areas. "Guards all through the middle car, think that's where they're sleepin," at least, that's what he was told. "A few stationed with the payroll, 'rest are in the front."_ _

__Easy enough._ _

__The three sit and stare at each other for a moment, all with the same blank look._ _

__"You good with locks?" Nori asks, not really directly at anyone. Neither Bofur or Bifur react._ _

__"Okay… I'll get back, you two front and center. Bofur you got good eyes, look out for the law while you're at it."_ _

__— • —_ _

__"We never talked about the cut." Bofur says matter-of-factly, cocking his head at Nori. The ginger raises a brow, picking his nails with a short blade._ _

__"Twenty-five percent each." Nori doesn't even look up as he answers. "But I get fifty."_ _

__It didn't seem fair to Bofur and Bifur. They could split it in three, why does it need to be four with Nori ending up with double?_ _

__Bifur huffs and Bofur agrees. Neither of them know Nori more than the fact that he's apparently notorious in the state. He could be swindling them smooth as a fox._ _

__"Why d'you get fifty? You ain't broke." Bofur sneers, the corners of his lips raising._ _

__"You ain't either." Nori growls. He doesn't see a point in telling some sob story (no matter how true) of how his brothers are barely getting by or some shit about his mother dying and his sire never present. No one gives a crap about all that. Nori knows because _he_ doesn't even give a crap about all of that. "'Sides. I'm planning. You got somethin' better? We'd _love_ to hear it."_ _

__"Actually, I do." And Nori narrows his eyes. "You cut the shit, we take the train at the first station, just take it. Soon as we got it, who the hell cares, we can smash it to bits and we'll get out of there anyway. No one's fast 'nough to catch a train."_ _

__Nori blinks, dumbfounded, then stares at Bofur. "What the fuck was _that_. We're not doing that." _ _

__It's damn near stupid._ _

___And_ reckless._ _

__Actually, it's not actually so bad… short maybe, but not impractical. Nori just _decides_ to disagree with Bofur. _ _

__Fuck Bofur._ _

__"We'll tether the horses further up the railroad, drop on from the overhang. Thing's fast, but we can get it done in a few minutes, I think."_ _

__The plan is simple, really. Nori heads straight toward the back, there'll be four guards. _Easy_. Nori's taken on more before. Bofur takes the middle and looks for the bonds (after taking out for other three guards). While all that happens, Bifur collects cash from the passengers. In and out in five minutes tops. The horses will be waiting for them when they get off, the train'll slow because the law is approaching, and _that's_ when they'll make their escape. _ _

__This is Nori's _grand plan_ ; the one that shapes his future._ _

__— • —_ _

__**WOLF'S RIDGE  
SATURDAY  
AUGUST 20, 1888  
01:32 PM** _ _

__**4 DAYS FROM THE HEIST** _ _

__Dwalin sits at the table in the Durin's meeting room, a cigarette between his fingers. Lord knows he needs one after all the back and forth arguments Thorin and Bilbo have been making since 11. The table is empty, save for the map and pins that lay out for Bilbo to instruct. Sitting in on the meeting is Frerin, Thorin, Dain, and Thrain. Dwalin takes another look around the room at all his cousins. They're listening to the endeavors of a short, little mousy man whom Dwalin's barely even met before._ _

__He lifts his hat to rub his bald head, and clears his throat, "you're all _sure_ he'll be on this train, then." The tension in the room is thick, everyone at each other's throats. Dwalin's voice holds authority and expectations. He's intimidating. It's what makes him good at his job._ _

__Bilbo straightens his back, pressure compressing his thoughts. The Durins are relying on him and his information to catch this thief and he hasn't even seen him for years._ _

__Bilbo nods quickly, again circling an area on the map with his finger. "We can cut them off here, since the nearest station is too far to be sure."_ _

__It's a flat plain where the mountains finish and fade into hills. Trees line the right side of the tracks, bush overgrowth and long grass give Bilbo an idea different than anything the Durin's come up with._ _

__He proposes a blockade, something the train will see coming and have enough time to avoid crashing. The mountains are still a good vantage point for another team to make sure Nori and his gang of rats are on board._ _

__Thorin says Bilbo thinks like a thief.  
______________________________________ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments & kudos appreciated!


	5. A Scuffle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's what I like to hear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: VIOLENCE

_____________________________________

Nori shakes the padlock in his hand, "well shit." He grimaces, free hand digging into his pocket trying to fish his neat little master key out. It's under all the trash and coins he keeps and forgets to toss. A glance toward the front of the train grants him the privilege of seeing Bofur drop down from the roof between two train cars ahead. _Nice_.

He gets his key and sticks it in the lock's keyhole, turns it once. Okay, twice. Doesn't work. So much for being a _master_ key. Thing's fucking useless. He tosses it off the side of the train.

Nori pulls his revolver out from the holster on his hip and hits the lock with the butt of his gun several times until it gives way and falls at his feet. He kicks it away, a metallic clang ringing his ears as it hits the railing instead of sliding right off. The door creaks open to the inside, Nori's finger on the trigger of his gun in case there are any guards riding with the _precious cargo_.

Then the door is pulled from his hands, and someone grabs him by the arm.

"Oh, fu—"

And someone clasps their hand over Nori's mouth before he can say anything else. Nori claws at the arms, legs kicking wildly as a string of muffled curses are being shouted against the rough palm. His gun falls, and he hears it being kicked away. He'll get it back. And when he does, he'll pop who ever the fuck touched his gun in the head before that can apologize.

Nori's unrestrained hand reaches for the blade he keeps on the waistband of his jeans. He flicks the knife open, jabbing it anywhere in front and then behind him. It makes contact with flesh and slides right in with a sick squelch, mountain ridge-shaped serrations pulling skin with it as the knife is retracted and once again inserted, this time higher at the man's ribs. Nori twists it and the man screams, hands falling from their place on his face and arms. He pushes himself further into the car, getting a better look at the two men that tried to stop him. 

"Almost got me," he grins wickedly, heartbeat all the way up in his ears. His gun lies in the middle of the room, boot prints visible on it's pretty steel. _Filthy_. 

"I'm gonna kill you." One of the guards drags a gun from his side. His hands are shaky, it's probably his first time. Or not. Who cares. He's dying anyway.

Nori shivers with delight, flipping his bloodied knife in the air. He watches the stray drops of blood land and seep into a few documents strewn recklessly over a desk. "Yeah?" He saunters on closer, and the guard extends an arm across his doubled over, bleeding out partner. "Bet it's not even loaded."

"I'll kill you! Don't come any closer." And Nori _sighs_. Big, long, and disappointed, he sighs. 

"Y'know…" He steps until the barrel of the gun presses on his forehead. "I _really_ didn't want to _kill_ anyone today." 

Nori feels the gun shake, the rattling of the revolver intensifying. He snorts, and brings his blade up, sticking it under the man's chin. The gun to his forehead is released, dropping with a pathetic clunk, and blood runs down his hand. If he looks into the mouth of the man he'd just stabbed, even when the guy is choking on his own blood, he can see the end of his blade protruding from the middle of his tongue. _Twist_. The man whines.

"That's what I like to hear." 

The guard behind him, clutching the previous wounds Nori inflicted on him, goes to throw a punch. He's lost so much blood it's nothing more than a little staggering, and Nori's knife slips out of the other man, who drops into a position that looks too comical to be real. 

— • —

Bofur peeks around the side of the train, the rushing air choking him as he breathes it in. There's no sign of the law yet, but the ends of the mountains approach too fast for him to be comfortable.

A hefty kick with his boot is all that he needs to break the cheap locks on the doors of the usual cars, his gun in his hand, pressed to the back of a sleeping guard's head. 

"Shut up," he shushes once the guard begins to startle. "Seriously, shut the fuck up."

Ahead, another guard stands with his back to them, facing the next car. Bofur puts a hand over his captive's mouth, the man writhing and trying to knock the closest knockable thing over. He drags him into a corner and mentally weighs his options.

No, scratch that. He wonders why he's here in the first place. There isn't any turning back now, of course, but motherfucker, why did he take on to something like _this_. He used to be a good guy, grew up with his cousin and his brother. It wasn't _bad_. It wasn't ever _great_ , but it wasn't ever unbearable either. In fact, when they went home after meeting with Nori in Angelrock, Bifur asked Bofur why he partnered up with Nori in the first place.

It might've been the promise of cash. It might've been his persuasion when they first met: Nori going on and on about how confident he was. How he'd been stealing from the Durin's for six years; how he knows all their tricks and tactics. Now they're here and he doesn't seem to know _anyFinally_.

Now... where are those bonds?

— • —

In the front of the train, Bifur has no trouble holding the passengers at gunpoint until they give up whatever it is they have on their person. Everyone in there looks rich: fitted suits, frilly dresses with jewelry shining on their hands and around their necks. 

He shoves the bag into their faces and clicks his revolver against their temples until he can hear the clacks of coins against coins and coins on the floor. Paper money, wrinkled and wilted fill the bag. It's light, not heavy enough for Bifur to be satisfied.

Then the screech of an emergency stop, the train abruptly pausing. Everyone stumbles or hits their head on the seat in front of them. Someone wants to be brave, someone wants to be a hero: a man stands up and tells Bifur the law is here to get him, that he better run before he's locked up for good, hanged even. Bifur rolls his eyes and shoots him where he stands. The sobs of the man's wife are louder now, and Bifur gives her a look. She shuts up. Bifur puts his gun away in its holster, and moves toward the back of the car to peer around outside.

There _is_ a blockade in place. Next to it the train conductor and a man in a fancy, rich looking suit with gold rings upon his hands talk. Bifur watches the conductor gasp, he watches him wring his hands and wipe them on his shirt. And the man in the suit makes eye contact with Bifur. 

_Shit_.

— • —

Dwalin sits against a rock in the bushes, the hour is slow, and the sun is hidden behind a thick roof of leaves. Six feet to his left are Thorin, Bilbo, Frerin, and some other guy he didn't care to meet. Thorin watches the hills across from them for a signal. _The_ signal. The one that told them to push the blockade and walk out to wait.

The smoke from the train is visible by the time Dís gives the signal. She saw a figure with a gun in the passenger car, and a body or two on the flatbed in the back. Thorin takes the signal and Dwalin springs from his drowsy state to help push the log and sign. 

The train wails as it slows, hissing to a halt. It jerks forward as the rest of the cars catch up. The conductor leaps out, adjusting his hat, as he goes on to ask what on earth could be going on.

Thorin tells an elaborate lie, the tracks ahead have been derailed and taken apart by outlaws; to continue would be to put the money and lives of everyone on board at risk. Dwalin doesn't listen much, but heads on back into the trees to retrieve his horse.

He'll check the money himself.

Dís comes down from the hill, her team behind her. The cloud of dust the horses make cause Bilbo and Frerin to cough. She laughs.

"Only saw one in the passenger cars," she shrugs, nodding to the train. "Don't look like our guy, but it could be an accomplice."

Dwalin rides up to the last train car. It's armoured and used to be locked. The broken padlock next to the door makes him shake his head. He picks the rope off his saddle and latches it to his belt, then gets his rifle over his shoulder, and gets off his horse. The couplets creaking under his weight as he stands on them, Dwalin pushes the door open slightly with the tip of his gun.

The floor is red where blood gathered earlier. It's gone dark and looks like it's been sitting for a short while.

Dwalin steps inside and takes a once over at the two bodies slumped against the corner. Someone jumps onto Dwalin's back, hands grasping at his face and throat. Dwalin chokes and lurches forward, growls a panicked " _Jesus Christ_!" and takes off his rifle strap as quick as he can. Nori lands on his back, inches from the desk. He wheezes, and stands, rubs his face with a red blood-stained hand to steady, and then throws himself into Dwalin. Dwalin's arms close around the other, hands clutching for a bunch of cloth to pull him off, but he feels his back collide with the wall anyway.

His rifle clatters by his feet, the other's revolver at the door. Dwalin shoves the smaller man off himself, tackles him back down, and punches him in the face. Nori's head whips back, stray hairs from his braid flying and getting stuck on his cheek. Nori spits in his face and snarls a vicious " _fuck you_!"

He flicks his knife out from his sleeve, silver dancing across his knuckles, and brings it towards Dwalin's neck. Dwalin catches the blade with his forearm, the serrations snagging skin, and Nori turns and twists until he can roll from underneath him.

It must be the adrenaline, because Dwalin doesn't feel the knife until it leaves him, air dusting his new cut. Nori grimaces, feels his cheek, and flicks the knife toward Dwalin.

Then they stand for what seems like minutes, and Nori finally makes a run for him again, and Dwalin dodges fast enough to catch the back of the other's head and slam it into the floor with an audible crack. Nori plants both hands on either side of his body and pushes himself back up, nose crooked and dripping blood down his chin. He grins lopsidedly at Dwalin, the pain in his face making him dizzy.

"Done?"

"No."

Nori blindly rushes him once more, this time with his knife instead of his head. He lurches for his face, or anywhere, he doesn't care. As long as this guy's getting hurt too. Dwalin swerves in time for Nori to miss, and Nori tries again, Dwalin grabs his arm to stop the attack. Nori lets go of the knife and catches it with his free hand, swiping for somewhere lower since he obviously isn't getting anywhere with all this ' _aiming for the face_ '' nonsense. Dwalin releases Nori's arm and pulls back, then aims another punch at his head. Nori ducks and swoops toward the bigger man's legs, slashing through fabric and causing Dwalin to reflexively crouch in pain. Nori's knee finally gets its date with Dwalin's nose, and then Nori gives Dwalin's temple the privilege of also becoming acquainted with the butt of his knife's hilt.

He's knocked out cold the moment the grip makes contact, the giant of a man looking bloody but peaceful in his rest. Nori hopes to see him again. This is the most _alive_ he's felt in years.

Bofur finally reappears, Bifur right behind him as they approach Nori. "Christ, I was startin' to believe you left without me." 

Neither are as beat up as Nori is. Nori wipes his nose with the back of his hand, wincing from the pain of touching his nose at all, and shoves Dwalin's body away from his feet. His entire face aches, but it isn't immobilizing enough to stop him from pushing past the cousins.

"The fuck happened to you?"

"Fuck you _think _happened?"__

________________________________________ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments & kudos appreciated!


	6. Tanpass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Amateur at best_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW / Slight violence

_____________________________________

Dwalin McFundin is having a terrible, no good, agonizing day. His head throbs and he sees in two. Perhaps Nori hit him harder than he needed to. Perhaps Nori had more fight left in him than Dwalin thought.

The room is plain and empty. It's a guest room set up for Dwalin through his stay. Thorin made it very clear that it was _only_ because they were cousins that he got such a nice room. Next off would've been that inn by Far Creek. Dwalin's rifle is leaned on the right side of the bed, newly polished and cleaned. He wonders how long he's been out. No more than a few hours, yet it's an entirely new day.

Dís sits beside Dwalin's bed, rewrapping the bandage along his forearm. The knife did some damage, but it would probably heal within a few weeks if he doesn't get infected. Frerin stands in the corner, against a wall, holding back his laughter at seeing his cousin with a bandage all around his head. Dwalin rolls his eyes and gives a stern, " _you're next_."

Dwalin lets himself fall back into the bed, his back aches from crashing into a steel wall, but again, it's nothing that shouldn't go away in a day or two. The Durin's healer says it's best he doesn't go running about these next weeks, but Dwalin has a job to do and someone to catch. His brain feels like it's been rattling for hours though. Maybe a nap isn't so bad.

He thinks again to the little scuffle he had with the redhead, looks beside him to see said redhead's hat. If he touches his face, he can still feel where the end of his braid brushed his cheek and his chin. If he closes his eyes, he can still see the exact moment the bandana slipped from its place on the bridge of the thief's nose, still see the piercing grey eyes that gored him worse than that saw toothed blade. Dwalin can still remember the way he strikes: unrelenting and sedulous. He fought like a thief, and he definitely _moved_ like one. 

Bilbo bursts in, startling Frerin, and making Dís squeeze Dwalin's arm, who then groans in discomfort. He walks over to Dwalin to give him a piece of his mind. If Dwalin hadn't gone ahead, there wouldn't need to be another search. With the wounds Dwalin might've inflicted, there's no telling where the hell Nori would hide. 

"You didn't wait for the rest of us."

"He would've run anyway." And Dwalin is right: Nori would've run off. Cleaner, maybe. If anything, Dwalin giving him a taste of his own blood was good. They know he's at least injured now.

Bilbo looks as if he could explode: brows furrowing, ears smoking, the list could go on. He's angry because he wants to see Nori suffer and hang— and for what?

Someone would call it petty: how Bilbo is so willing to go to such lengths just to see an old partner breathe his last breath— just because Nori left him on that dirt road six years ago.

_Amateur at best_.

He'll show _him_ amateur at _best_. 

— • —

Nori Ri is having a terrible, no good, agonizing day. The ringing in his ears hasn't stopped and Bofur's rantings of everything that could've gone wrong aren't helping. He wonders if it's some joke cast on him by whatever God there is up there (if there is one, anyway). Give Nori Ri _all_ the bickering and complaining, _all_ the shit partners, and make him so broke no amount of money he gets ever lasts.

He's seated in a stiff, not-so-comfortable, wooden chair, his head tilted back as Bifur feels around his face for broken bones and the sort. The room smells dusty and old. The ceiling is full of holes from rotting wood and collapsed planks. He doesn't know where they are, his first instinct (now that he's thinking clearly) is to scan the room for exits, and then figure out if it's a safe distance away from anything he holds dear. A dog barks outside, disrupting the trillion thoughts a minute in his head. He doesn't mind it so much, though. Nori _likes_ dogs.

Bifur feels Nori's nose and gives Bofur a look. Nori glances back and forth between the two, desperately wishing he could understand the silent communication. He noticed it the first day he met Bifur: how they'd look at each other a certain way and _poof_. That was an entire conversation, an entire instruction, or something. 

Bofur snorts, "you think so?"

Bifur nods then turns back to Nori with an apologetic look on his face. And the redhead, finally understanding, jerks his head back, out of his grasp.

"Fuck no, at least give me some fucking whiskey." 

"All out." Nori watches Bofur slip a bottle behind his leg, and grumbles something about how he'll do the same sometime. He winces when his nose scrunches out of habit.

" _Fuck you_." Nori stuffs his sleeve into his mouth and shuts his eyes while Bifur grabs his nose again to set it back into place.

— • —

"D'you know that guy you fought?" Bofur strolls into the room with the dog from before. It trots up to Nori and sniffs his bandaged knuckles.

"Not really. Must be new." Nori uses the little strength he's gathered from his few hours of rest to pet the dog and coo at it. He misses running outside to greet the cattle dogs in the mornings when he was young.

"Six years then, yeah?" Nori nods slowly, and Bofur continues. "Did some digging. You only 'came back' three years ago. Saw your face in the papers all the way in Tanpass."

_Tanpass_ … 

— • —

**TANPASS**  
**1885**  
**3 YEARS AGO**

The safe ticks as Nori turns the little numbered knob between his fingers, his ear against the metal. He clicks his tongue and smiles once the vault pops open to reveal the stacks of paper money and jewelry. Rich bastards all around this town; he knew this bank was good for the hassle. Outside the strongroom, the bell rings constantly, screaming for the law to come and arrest Nori. Of course, they'd have to catch him first.

This is the last cashbox, though, and the law is nowhere in sight. Nori stuffs the last of the necklaces and rings into his satchel and drapes it over his shoulder. Hiding the fact that this unfortunately took longer than he wanted, he picks up his gun from the desk beside him and strides to the common room of the bank.

Everyone is still on their knees. A pool of blood soaks into the carpet and the wood flooring underneath— someone just moved too fast, it was an _accident_ , Nori swears.

Nori kicks the body with the steel toe of his boot. When it doesn't move, he shrugs and points the gun at everyone else around him. His bandana sits tightly on the bridge of his nose, outlining its shape in the most vague of forms. 

"Anyone fucking moves, I'm blowin' your brains out for everyone t'see."

He's calm. Believe it or not, Nori is calm. With his heart beating in his ears, trying to free itself from his ribcage, and every movement of his eye, he's calm. 

Outside the rumble of hoofbeats makes him twitch, his thumb rubbing a spot on his rifle. The little peace he had was nice. He should've just run before they got there. Behind him, the bank teller stutters out something about how the law is here and they'll be saved. _Tough luck_. Nori shoots him where he stands.

"Get out here, now!" Some prissy law man dressed in blue and black shouts from outside. Nori squints and makes his way over to a window. Outside are six men on horses. He's seen them around. A few of them have kids. It's only a _little_ sad those kids won't have fathers after this ordeal. 

Well. Nori didn't have a father and he turned out _fine_.

_Sort of_.

In the back of his mind, Nori knows it's fucking stupid to rob an entire bank on your own. He needs money to bring home to Dori and 'em, but that doesn't mean he can't get a little temporary crew together for this. 

Mother, Ori, and Dori, the only family he has left, Nori says to himself that he does it for them. His father didn't want to stick around, and Nori chased Ori's out with a gun. They didn't talk about Dori's, but Mother has always said he was a good man. 

_Whatever that is_.

Nori watches the men outside for a minute, contemplating everything but the fact that he needs to find a way out. He thinks, and for a brief time remembers the door in the back. He doesn't _know_ if it leads outside, but it's worth a shot. He's all out of ideas for this one.

By now the ringing of the bank bell is easier to block out, and Nori can finally hear himself think. He pushes himself off the wall and runs towards the back room again where he was before. The metal door sounds flimsy and thin when he pushes it open. There's no one waiting outside, but his horse is just along the tree line, and if he can get there without being detected, all would be fine.

But Nori _is_ detected— a simple snap of a branch and surprise snort from a horse nearby alerts every single lawman in front of the bank. He makes a run for it instead, swallowing hard with panic in his lungs, and fear on his shoulders. Bullets begin flying past him, whistling through the air at speeds higher than the thief's eyes can register. It's a second where he's nearly stopped, he doesn't know why, but the moment the shock leaves him, pain replaces the surprise and makes him choke.

A bullet goes straight through his shoulder, another grazes his arm as he continues to run toward his horse. He can already see him bucking against the hitching post.

He thinks it's time to go home. 

_____________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos appreciated!


	7. The Fox and His Rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you know what we are? _Out_. _Laws_. Fuckin' thieves!

_____________________________________

Bofur glances at the wrinkled paper in Nori's hands. The redhead hasn't let it out of his sight since they first met up again in Oxdale. Curiosity urges him out of his chair to cross the room.

"Wha's that?" He asks, leaning over Nori's shoulder.

"None of your business."

"Ah, don't be like that, scarface."

Nori growls, and begrudgingly turns so the other could see the drawing.

It's three stick figures, one short, one a bit more stout, and the last sporting a star as a head. They were holding hands under a corner-of-the-paper-sun. Next to them is what looks to be a crudely drawn dog. They all have smiles on their faces.

"It's a, uh… little thing,"

"You do it yourself?" Bofur snorts, jabbing Nori in the shoulder.

"Oh, fuck off. My baby brother drew it. I went home before Oxdale 'cause it was on the way."

"Oh yeah? How'd that go?"

Nori shoots him a look.

"Don't even ask."

Bofur raises his arms in surrender and turns away.

"Why'd you run off six years ago, then?" And Nori folds the paper up to put it back in his breast pocket.

"What's this? _Huh_? Some fuckin' interrogation?" Bofur shrugs, suspicious still, despite Nori not really ever having crossed him in the first place. The thief gathers his things and heads for the door.

"Where you off to?"

"Away from you, hell if I know." 

— • —

Dwalin's chain clicks against itself as he steps off his horse, the air of the desert stale and dry. A few feet away is the run down shack where he had agreed to meet a paid informant. The structure is almost black from a past fire and years of sun damage. 

Through the gaps in the wood, Dwalin can see the knee of a man (his bribe, no doubt) sitting in the shade. He tucks his revolver in the back of his pants, and pockets the eighty dollars from his satchel.

" _You're_ the one lookin' up on the ol' fox?" The man wheezes once Dwalin enters his line of sight. He's smoking a cigar, a celebration for making eighty dollars for talking, maybe, and beckoning him over. "C'mon, I'on't bite."

_The Fox…_

A two time escapee wanted for a string of armed robberies, paid killings, aggravated assault, petty theft, etcetera, etcetera. He appeared with the wind and left with it too. The Fox was described to work alone or with a partner, nicknamed _The Rabbit_. The majority of their work targeting the Durin's, a rich oil company founding family down in Wolf's Ridge, they stole wagons and hijacked trains full of worker's payload and company bonds over the course of two years. 

Active since 1880, they were never caught but seemed to have disbanded in 1882 when The Fox (now thought to be dead) disappeared. The identity of the Rabbit is still unknown today, though a high bounty of several hundred dollars still sits on his head. 

The Fox's _signature_ is an 'X' cut into the right breast of a corpse postmortem; any corpse at the scene. Further inspection found no relation between the choices, it looked like he picked the closest one and slashed their skin so everyone would know.

It's all basic information until Dwalin's bribe pauses. 

"'Nother ten and I'll tell ya where he lives."

— • —

Nori stretches his legs, wiggling his foot in the air for a second before letting himself fall back into the concrete wall behind him. He sits on the roof of a bank, the engraved sign at the very top providing him with enough shade to cover the majority of his body. He picks at a stick with his knife, carving little meaningless shapes and letters. He doesn't want to remember six years ago.

— • —

WOLF'S RIDGE  
1882  
SIX YEARS AGO

Bilbo paces the room anxiously, hands balling into fists, releasing, and then balling into fists again. Nori could see the sweat begin to bead down his face, see the taint that frustration poured through his close knit, furrowed brows. What he doesn't see is what all the fuss is about.

"Come _on_. Y'always throw a goddamn fit. Do you know what we are? _Out_. _Laws_. Fuckin' thieves! Start acting like one. I'm tired of your fucking whining." The redhead pushes his chair from the table, the wood creaking under his weight, and leaves Bilbo alone in the room.

Nori is right. After every little heist, every paid killing and robbery, Bilbo feels the overwhelming waves of guilt and mercy. The very first time Nori forced his gun against a stranger's head, Bilbo had to turn away and vomit. He didn't understand how anyone— no, how _Nori_ could do it so easily. So easily in fact, that he did it with a smile on his face and a laugh in his throat.

What kind of psycho does that?

Killing someone for… for _fun_. Because Nori _asked_ him to. Because Nori would throw him out otherwise; take his gun and the clothes on his back and toss Bilbo out to the wolves. He talked about it before in detail, which parts the wolves would tear apart first, how no one would hear his screams because he'd throw him so deep in the woods, no one would dare to venture in to save him…

Bilbo shoves the door open and Nori jumps, reaching for the revolver slung on his hip. He relaxes once he sees it's only his shorter friend hitting things extra hard to make up for lost height.

"I can't do it." Bilbo says quickly. Nori raises a brow, lips quirking.

"I didn't ask you to do anyth—"

"I can't keep doing this! I… I don't want you to throw me out but I can't go around killing people for you."

Nori cocks his head, the playful and innocent expression gone.

"Didn't I tell you 'bout the wolves?" He sneers, taking long, slow strides toward Bilbo. "How they'd eat you alive… tear you apart..? You're not afraid, are you, _Little Rabbit_?"

Bilbo hears Nori's gun cock, then gasps when he feels the front sight on his chin. In his head he pleads to a god that won't answer his cries.

"Nh… no," he whimpers, and Nori snorts, shoving him by the shoulder.

"Let's go for a ride, yeah? _You and me_."

_____________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated! <3


	8. Into the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ Give 'im a good toss for me, will you? God knows he deserves it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are my own!

_____________________________________

A blindfold (a half bloodied old cloth torn from one of Nori's old tee's), sits on the bridge of Bilbo's nose more snuggly than he'd like. It's a surprise, Nori tells him, all gentle and smiling when he asks. Then he kisses his palm and taps it to Bilbo's cheek twice; innocence shining through an unseen deadpan across Nori’s face. Bilbo leans away, and he frowns.

"Don't be like that, _Rabbit_. M'not gonna hurt ya." Nori speaks evenly, "when have I ever?"

His arms tighten around Nori's waist once the redhead climbs up and gets his horse moving. Bilbo thinks Nori's done this before, because it seemed so familiar to his nimble hands, and his blindfold didn't allow any light to pass; even when he scrunched his nose and squeezed his eyes shut in a helpless attempt to move it up.

Resentment boils in Nori, filling his stomach with hate and hurt and betrayal. After all they've been through? One, two, how many years together?

It isn't as bad as it seems though, Nori thinks, because Bilbo is just a little, whiny coward that wanted a taste of adventure, and when he got it, he didn't like it; now he wants to quit and… well, no one quits on Nori. If anything, it should have been Nori to quit on Bilbo. With how much he fucking complained, it’s a miracle he doesn’t outright murder him himself. 

They ride for what seems like hours to Bilbo, the smells of pine and damp ground fill Bilbo's senses. The air is crisp and refreshing, but it terrifies him because that means Nori brought him to the woods.

"Smell all that, Rabbit?" Oh, how he's coming to hate that nickname—. "I know how you like it back home. Tea an' shit. Fancy things for fancy people, with your little rich boy. Y'think he's gonna come get you _here_?"

Fear wallows and spreads through Bilbo, his hands clutching Nori's shirt tightening as Nori tugs the piece of cloth over his eyes up to his forehead to allow him a look of the forest around them. Fog settles too close to the ground as the moon rises from her rest behind the silhouetted mountain peaks. In the distance, wolves howl and an elk screams. Normally, the forest's ambience is welcome. Normally, Nori is setting up a tent right now while Bilbo tends to a growing fire.

"N-no." Bilbo stammers finally, big-eyed and afraid against Nori's back. It isn't like him, actually, to cower _this_ much, but God forbid Nori tell him to get off here and walk.

"Tha's what I thought." He chuckles. "Only me, you know? I'm right here with you and I'm not lettin' nothing close. That's why you need me, is'n it?" 

— • —

Leaves rustle and shrubbery twitch as Bilbo slides off the back of Nori’s horse. The redhead doesn’t dismount after him like he said he would, and that makes him nervous. It takes only a millisecond for Bilbo to connect the dots and begin scrambling back up on the too tall horse, pleading Nori not to leave him here; not to feed him to the wolves. 

“Don’t be a fucking pussy.” Nori snarls, shoving Bilbo’s shaking hands away. The look he gives him is pure ice, the shorter man standing on the side of the path shrinking into himself.

“Look,” the thief sighs, and waves a hand dismissively. “It ain’t that far. Y’can walk back.”

For a minute, Bilbo stares at Nori like he’s mad— like he’s playing a cruel joke to teach him a lesson. The longer he stares, the longer Nori expectantly stares back; telling Bilbo he has no choice but to agree.

“You’re joking.” Bilbo’s voice wavers as he speaks. “I don’t even know the way we came, Nori, you can’t be serious ‘bout this, I—“

“What’re you gonna do, start begging?” A snort, “too fuckin’ late for all that.” 

Nori looks at Bilbo and feels a deep enmity, right before his eyes now is the shackles that this damned boy brought and doomed him with. Nori looks at Bilbo and sees nothing more than something that holds him back from what he’s _really_ capable of. 

Bilbo’s expression changes from worried to horrified as Nori’s horse begins walking again. He wants to give chase; maybe jump on at the right time like on those trains—.

But Nori shouts “good luck!” and gallops away, and Bilbo is left on a dirt road, in a forest he isn’t familiar with that is bound to have wolves and cougars and bears and snakes— and he doesn’t think he’ll make it back before supper (if he gets supper at all).

— • —

When Nori returns to their little run down cabin, he doesn’t bother tethering his horse to any hitching posts or low branches.

Old wooden floorboards creak and whine under the soles of his peeling weathered boots. In the corner of the room are several empty and not empty saddle bags, some filled with cash, others filled with mismatched jewelry they’d collected this past month. Under the floorboards, Nori drags the hefty lockbox from its hiding place and shoves every dollar into a sack to take with him.

There isn’t any need to rush because Bilbo is in the next state and that fool’s too soft to rob a horse off anyone. And yet the redhead moves like his own blood will boil him alive if he doesn’t hustle all these savings and run.

— • —

**STAGTOOTH**  
AUGUST 1888  
02:18 PM 

**PRESENT DAY**

A cattle dog barks as Dwalin approaches the homestead, folding the map in his hands and stuffing it in one of his back pockets. It doesn't look like much; as typical as it could get, this looked like any textbook farmhouse and yet he felt a certain interest and weight.

There's a story here. Here and everywhere; he's just never felt it like this before.

Through a half-cracked open window, Dwalin sees the little hands of a child fleeing further into the house. His brows furrow, but he continues toward the front steps, the dog on the porch lifting its head, watching him with tired, droopy eyes. Some shuffling and the sound of a lock being fumbled with from the inside, and Dwalin's staring into the barrel of a (very nice) rifle.

He takes it they aren't very friendly then.

"Who are ya and why're you here." The stout man at the top of the steps more states than asks. 

Dwalin blinks, and looks him over; hair prematurely turned white, shorter though not terribly so, and wearing an apron (that now makes him wonder if he had come at a bad time, like dinner or something). 

His informant said this is where Nori lives and yet this man here doesn't look anything close to a family member. Distant cousins perhaps?

"Dwalin McFundin." Dwalin finally coughs out, and leans to look into the house beyond the man standing in front of him with a gun uncomfortably close to his face. "I'm lookin' for Nori Ri."

The man (thankfully) lowers his gun and sighs, real slow and exhausted like. He looks almost as tired as that dog, who's now turned away, sleeping despite all this commotion. The longer he stands, brows knitted together in anticipation for an answer, the more wonders if he had said the wrong name or if he got the wrong address.

"Or if he ain't here, if you got a last—"

"No, he was here." The silver-haired man waves a hand and offers Dwalin a seat on the porch. The steps creak embarrassingly under his weight, but his host assures him it is _just old_ nonetheless.

"How long ago?" 

"A week or so? I don'no. Came 'ere all lookin' for pity, well he's three years late for all 'at." Noticing the confused look on Dwalin's face, "I'm his brother. Or half brother, I s'pose, Dori Ri." 

Dwalin nods slowly. "You know anything 'bout this _Fox_ and _Rabbit_ business?"

"Oh, yeah, tons. Some feller Nori used to go and do the dumbest shit I've ever seen with. Real young at the time, Nori was… nineteen when he started comin' round, I think, and the kid was like eighteen or something. Bout this tall, curly hair, kinda scrawny. Small for ‘is age. Don't know much 'bout him, he came by like twice, didn't say a word to me,but Nori, Nori would come in all boastin’ about all these things they went and did. _Dori, we've done robbed us a train_! Or some _Dori_! _Can you patch th'kid up, we got shot at_."

"You knew 'bout all the stealin' and robbing?"

"Yeah'up. M'mother used to say he'd grow out of it. Look where he is now, huh, big guy like you chasin' after him.” Dori muses, and rubs his hand over his face as he comes to his next decision. He’s never been one to rat a family member out, but god, did Nori deserve it. 

“Listen, last I heard, he's headed up in Oxdale with some new friends. Something ‘bout a great train the _rabbit_ and he use to get into when they was together. Give 'im a good toss for me, will you? God knows he deserves it." 

_____________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments & kudos appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated!


End file.
